


too drunk to fuck

by merrymelody



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 12:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymelody/pseuds/merrymelody
Summary: For a prompt at umbrellakink wanting dubcon Klaus/Diego with Klaus wasted and mistaking Diego for Dave.





	too drunk to fuck

Apparently Klaus was running off adrenaline during their unexpected ice cream van rescue attempt, and the vodka's finally hitting even his prodigious tolerance. He's currently semi-conscious and crashed out on the back seat.

Diego's moved into the passenger side, which gives him and his makeshift sling more space; but also leaves him closer to Luther. 

Frankly, Klaus might be an idiot, but even unconscious, he's Diego's preferred sibling, a relief after Luther's endless macho bullshit; Alison and Five's posturing arrogance (Five apparently hasn't changed much from the supercilious asshole he was at thirteen); Vanya's traitorous moralising. 

He nudges Luther when they approach an exit. 'Pull over.' 

Luther looks surprised. 'I thought carbs were the enemy?' 

Diego rolls his eyes. 'It's not for me. You want Dad's Rolls to stay clean, he needs something to line his stomach.' 

'Yesterday you nearly killed Five. Now you're what, hand-feeding _him_?' Luther frowns. He's always been irritated by any signs of what he considers indulgence of Klaus. Diego figures Klaus probably confuses his caveman outlook - you can't compete with Klaus like their other brothers or Alison, he's completely disinterested in the endless battles over who's biggest, strongest, fastest; but he's not tiny and helpless like Vanya. Not that Diego's ever had the urge to coddle _her_, and despite Patch barely topping five and a half foot, she certainly wouldn't have allowed such nonsense. 

Thinking about Patch is painful, particularly as they've had to exit, escape her killers instead of attacking them, like Diego desperately wants to. To distract himself, he tries to recall a more positive memory associated with her.

*

At the station, still green, happy even to fill in paper work, like a real cop. He fills in a report, pressing down so hard he curses under his breath when he realises he's marked the blank pages underneath the form. Chuck exits, chucking ruefully as Diego frantically thumbs through the carbon copies, waving at the guy in the cell, a frequent flyer. 

'See you soon, Jeff.'

He's probably in his fifties, but he shakes like he's seventy. The guy's arms are a pincushion, he's shivering although it's already 70 degrees, and when he shifts, Diego and Eudora spot at the same time that the crotch of his jeans is damp. 

'Hey, Jeff. You left your sweatpants here last week. What are we, your luggage bin?' Eudora asks, mock angry. 

Jeff cackles a little harder than the weak joke warrants, and the other cell occupant's fists twitch as he stares blankly ahead. 

'Why don't you give us a fashion show of these babies?' 

She holds out a pair of pants from the lost and found box, as she squints at Diego's badge briefly. 

'...Diego here will watch you, make sure you're okay, while I call St. Marks. See what's on today's lunch menu, huh?' 

Jeff blinks slowly, but clearly something filters through the haze, probably the mention of food; as he lurches forward on his stick thin legs, Eudora ever so casually blocking him from view. 

Diego didn't ask her out for another 3 months, but when he looks back he's pretty sure that's when he first fell in love with Eudora Patch. 

*

'And yesterday, you had Five barf on you, and you're gonna complain about grabbing drive thru? Have a heart, big guy,' Diego sneers. 

'Yeah, well, Five's not here. He's disappeared again. For us. For our family. And Five hasn't spent fifteen years wasted.' Luther presses his lips together, probably exhausted from so many sentences without Reginald around to prompt him. 

Diego's not gonna argue that one, but Klaus had his back today, wasted or not; which isn't something he'd say for any of his other siblings at the moment, whether it's fair of him or not. Besides, Luther sticking up for anyone not called Reginald or Alison is monumental enough. Diego probably shouldn't discourage baby's first emotion. 

'...What happened to your arm, anyway?' Luther asks, almost reluctantly. 

Diego's nastily glad for a reason to continue the barbs, rather than think about the long list of things he's trying to avoid. 'The guy's looking for Five? The ones who hurt', his mouth twists a little, 'my friend. Who kidnapped him?' he motions with a nod to the backseat. 'While Five was getting ploughed. She saved our brother, while we were busy chasing our damn tails.' 

'Five's been...through stuff. You heard him last night, the stuff he was talking about. He's not the same.'

Diego's aware he can be a prick, is argumentative, has a vicious tongue and a lack of patience that landed him mopping floors instead of with a shiny academy badge; but as he sure as shit pays attention, and he didn't miss Five's strange ramblings, any more than Klaus babbling some pretty weird shit himself, even by his own standards. His brother might be flakey and live by the motto 'it's always five o'clock somewhere' when it comes to imbibing; but he sure doesn't do it silently, and while he's shared in delirious detail how well he's 'getting dicked down' on the occasions they've run into each other; he's never seen Klaus talking about love, or for that matter, loss. 

His brother is stirring in the back, probably attuned to the potential for someone fool enough to blow money on him, and Diego bites his tongue hard, keeping his tongue low.

'Oh, now you don't want to disturb Sleeping Beauty?' Luther asks scornfully. 

Sleeping Beauty stops snoring and with prodding, is with it enough to blearily demand extra fries. 'Sure thing, buddy', Diego answers, leaning over to the speaker. 'And hey, add on a banana milkshake for my other brother, here. My treat.' 

They pull in to the parking bay. Luther's still pissed, although Diego notices he devours his Supersized meal right down to the shake. Klaus spills half his coke down his ridiculous coat, hiccuping like a cartoon, and now Luther knows it ticks him off, he's clearly decided jabs at Four are the way to go. 

'Guess he's feeling no pain.' 

God knows Diego's thought the same plenty of times, himself, despite going to bat for Klaus whenever his siblings take a shot at their spaciest brother.

Maybe he just gets off on saving people, however hopeless, and Klaus is the only one pathetic enough to get off on being rescued. 

Maybe it's because, selfish and irritating his brother may be, he does at least have a sense of humour, not a common Hargreeves trait. 

Maybe it's how he looks in his stupid leather pants and weird dresses, winking and teasing, stroking Diego's arms, and making Luther and Alison look like healthy well adjusted example of sibling relations. 

It might be fucked up, but they all are, and while his days of trusting Klaus, of hoping for him, are long dead, he's always there if Klaus needs a ride. Never stops wanting for his brother, wanting Klaus to try harder, to care more, to not embarrass him with his sissy shit. 

He's not so fragile he can't deal with Klaus fucking guys, but sometimes a little voice that sounds a lot like the late unlamented Reginald Hargreeves suggests a little training, a few rounds in the ring might toughen up Klaus up, knock out the easy tears, put some muscles on the lanky frame; that if he just sweated out the toxins, developed some discipline, a little pride in his body... He's never gonna compete with Luther or Diego - even under dad's strictest regimes, Klaus never tipped the scales at much over bantam weight, and spending his adult life strung out hasn't thickened him out; but it's a far cry from not living in the gym to treating his body like trash, open to all the abuse drugs and the men that surround themselves with them can inflict. 

Luther thinks he's soft, it's easy for him to avoid Klaus, dad's shut in trained dog. Diego actually has a job, a life, interacts with people, and it turns out junkies and vigilantes run in much of the same circles. 

It's not as useful as it sounds, Klaus is hardly a reliable source of intel, but they have a kind of agreement. If Diego's paying, Klaus has to eat. Klaus steers clear of Diego's old station and it's surrounding neighbourhoods; and Diego doesn't drag in the wharf trash Klaus surrounds himself with anymore than he has to. 

If there's a truly nasty customer, Klaus tacitly agrees he'll steer clear, although Diego holds little faith in any promise Klaus makes. 

The first few years they were out on their own he tried harder. Found out rehab information, gave Klaus a key for emergencies, a phone. He changed the locks after he came back one afternoon to find his knife collection hocked; but he paid for the phone a while longer. 

Before Eudora, there was a girl, Melanie. They'd been seeing each others for a month or so, he stayed over at her’s a bunch, but he doesn't like the idea of being a

_(Klaus)_

freeloader. He doesn't want to meet her friends yet, even though she says she's told them how great he is. Not until stuff’s better, money wise. 

He refuses to eat anything Reginald's money paid for; and it's about that time he thinks that, authority issues aside, maybe he could make it through the academy application process, although he'd have to up his test scores. Turns out that sixteen years of private tuition via billionaire funding doesn't do shit when your understanding of core subjects doesn't stretch beyond the swiftest way to kill someone. 

He and Melanie having this cheesy anniversary dinner, candles, wine and all that couple crap; when his cell bleeps. It's Klaus. 

Diego tries to stay calm, curt, not let him begin one of his meandering rambles, just find out what he wants. It's probably more of his usual bullshit, but there have been reports of a wave of ODs where Klaus has been lurking these last few weeks; and he can't help the stupid lurch of his stomach as he waits for Klaus's reply. 

Finally, there's a sniffing sound, and an answer. '...You still seeing the blonde on 34th? I'm, uh...downstairs? The doorman has a truly negative vibe, he sai-' 

Diego sighs, cutting Klaus off; and buzzes him up. 

He's barely mentioned his family, and Melanie is fascinated by the concept of this sudden, mysterious brother. 

The first impression is blown rather by Klaus woozily staggering in, before vomiting extravagantly on the rug, locking himself in the bedroom, and presumably passing out. 

The evening might still have been salvageable at that point. Diego's used to cleaning up other people's messes, and he quickly deals with the situation, as Melanie squeezes his shoulder and tentatively talks about her uncle's painkiller habit. They crash on the sofa, watching TV, and it's nice, even after the ruined dinner. Normal. 

In the morning, Klaus is gone. So's the remaining bottle of wine, Diego's wallet, Melanie's purse, the contents of her bathroom cabinet and her grandmother's diamond earrings. 

They don't make month two. 

*

Diego kind of regrets asking Luther to drop him off at the gym instead of the house. At least then he'd have a hand carting in Klaus. The skinny bastard's still tall, and with his arm, he's reduced to coaxing his brother: 'c'mon, sit up, buddy' as Klaus leans against the car, swaying like they're at sea. 

Klaus has never seen the place, but Diego's not concerned about his finer feelings on the decor, particularly as there's only one mattress, leaving Diego to a saggy gym mat. 

He lets Klaus collapse on the bed. Despite the food he's pressed on his brother, he's worried. This isn't the most out of it he's seen Klaus even by a long shot, if only because he's not cross-faded beyond whatever he popped in the car earlier; but the talking to himself that he noticed after the funeral has gotten worse. Now Klaus is actively nonsensical, babbling about soldiers, torture; sobbing in bars. Klaus is the family jester, never shutting up when he should, always laughing when he shouldn't. Diego's seen him coming down, but never this quiet, tearful... 

If they were at home, he'd be concerned enough to call Mom, to rely on her medical training, but with a wince he recalls that's not an option. 

He settles for shoving Klaus onto his right, awkwardly with his dumb hand, easing off the coat. He'd strip Klaus down; his brother's charms have never included modesty, but he doesn't think he could manage the damn laces on those pants at the best of times; and he's weaving a little himself by this point, exhaustion hitting him like a punch to the head. 

'Found us a damn palace, baby,' Klaus slurs, still clinging to consciousness against all odds. 

'You're welcome,' Diego huffs, wiping his brow. 

Klaus pulls at his waistband unexpectedly, lurching upwards and Diego overbalances. He leans on his good hand as Klaus leans forward, lips brushing the sling. 

'Scared me. When they shot ya. Thought...lost you.' 

Diego's disturbed by Klaus' twin reactions, he murmurs in the same sappy tone he had in the bar earlier, his eyes filling with tears; but this close, Diego feels rather than sees Klaus' erection straining visibly in his pants. 

'Jesus, Klaus.' He pushes him down. 'Sleep it off.' 

Klaus continues to cling, and Diego shakes at his searching fingers more roughly than he intends; immediately regretting it. Knowing the twisted stuff Klaus is into, it'll only encourage him. So Diego figures the opposite is a better option for a Hargreeves sick mind, and makes an effort to remain calm, kind even. 

'I'm fine. Just a graze. You had my back, okay. I was proud to have you with me.' 

He knows he's enabling this fantasy, probably Klaus reliving childhood war games, but Diego can't help it, he's always taken care of his brother. 

A dazed smile spreads across Klaus face, his glazed eyes barely open. 'Stay with me?' 

It's a rarely used form of care, since they all moved out, it used to be traditional, following a mission, an update on their secret handshake, something to chase away the ghosts; but it serves as a sedative, which Diego's in as much need of as Klaus by this point. His arm aches, his feet hurt, and it's probably the worst handjob he's ever given, mechanical in his tiredness, Klaus half asleep, Diego at an awkward angle. 

Klaus finishes swiftly, and Diego leaves him to tuck himself back in to his pants and trashy underwear, although knowing Klaus, he won't bother. 

He stands, grimly setting his jaw, aware he still has to extricate the mat from the cupboard and manoeuvre it into something approaching comfy instead of spine-crushing; so he misses Klaus' dreamy '...love you, D...', so quiet it's barely audible.


End file.
